Pirates of the Caribbean: Black Heart Crusade
by KatrinaKaiba
Summary: Spoilers for DMC The entire gang is out to find Captain Jack Sparrow, and Jack Sparrow is trying to find Davy Jones' heart, but not before striking up another 'agreement' with its owner.
1. Lost In A World Of Shadows And Rain

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is previously owned by Disney (characters etc.)**_

_**Pirates of the Caribbean: The Black Heart Crusade**_

_Chapter 1: Lost In A World Of Shadows and Rain_

Antic silence permeated its presence into every depression and fissure of the drench marsh lands. Phantasmal lanterns floated on imperceptible threads, and cast dark figures of dim melancholic illumination forming swirls and shadows that danced and glided on the serene yet mystical pond. Only the stirring movements of the somber figures inside the eerie pillared cabins indicated any form of life in the swamp at all.

And in one word, one confused yet clear word, the entire tranquility and bittersweet absence of reality was broken and smashed into a thousand echos that reverberated loudly, harshly erupting every stationary thing to become physical once more and take on its previous emotions.

"Barbossa?"

The British voice of the young Elizabeth Swann brought this all into focus.

"Jes, Barbossa." said Tia Dalma, her black lips moving into a malicious grin and her voice lowering to accompany the mystery of the name.

All inhabitants of the cabin were in complete paralysis, one would think that they were frozen statues, had the temperature been below freezing instead of a stifling heat of estimated 110 degrees.

William Turner, a strapping young man of late twenties, regained consciousness of his momentary lapse of human activity and said rather plainly, "You're supposed to be dead."

"Jes, 'e was once dead, but now 'e be alive. And he be de answer ju seek in findin' ye long lost beloved captain." Tia Dalma answer, her Jamaican voice laced with deep pitches making it hard for one to truly understand her, if one did not listen carefully enough.

"How is he going to help us?" Ragetti pipped in, before shrinking back with Pintel in a corner when Barbossa eyed them with his jaundice eyes, glaring heatedly.

"'E will be sailin' ye off te de ends of de earth in search of Jack Sparrow. For 'e is still alive m'dears." She inhaled loudly and held a emaciated hand to her heart, "Mmm jes, I can feel his 'eart beating, his soul fightin'" At this she stared Elizabeth right in the eye, and in retaliation, the younger woman hung her head guiltily.

"Well I believe that be enough with the reintroductions, Tia." Barbossa strung out, his harsh voice dripping with ice as if he had just fought off the cold clammy hands of death itself at that very moment."

"Bery well. I have giben Barbossa 'ere all the vitals you will be needin for this long voyage. My blessing be with ya all, and may the sea be yer mistress of fortune."

She touched each of their foreheads as a sign of blessing.

"Alright you bloomin' cockaroaches, off te find dear ol' Jack now, eh?" he waved his hand in gesture of following and strode out of the cabin.

"Off ye go den me dears."

Each shuffled out silently just as they came. Elizabeth was the last to begin her descent when an arm touched hers in a soft, but at the same time, firm gesture to signal immediate cease.

Whirling around, Elizabeth came back once again to Tia Dalma.

"Yes, Tia Dalma?"

"I know what ye did, lass. And I know truly dat yer sorry for his fate. But believe child, dat destiny has a place fer all o' us. Jack is still alive. But ye gotta find him before he be lost to us fore'er," Suddenly she reached down and lifted the compass out of Elizabeth's pocket.

"Ye know what dis is child?"

"Yes...it's Jack's compass."

"Mhmm, what do ye know about 'is compass?"

"That it points to the thing one wants most."

"Mmmm...when de time comes to test yer strength against de world and truly know what ye want most, remember, love. De compass doesn't lie."

Elizabeth stared at her in gaping astonisment.

Tia Dalma chuckled darkly.

And Elizabeth left her, still hearing her confusing words and dark laughter repeating and swirling violently in her mind.

Darkness

Every muscle in his entire body ached and cried out in mercy. Every bone he moved cracked and popped violently against their original hinges and joints. His skin felt clammy and cold, slicked with the sweat of over exhaustion and unspent relief. His clothes were ragged and drenched, clinging to his skin from the water's cruelties. The waters break and receding sounded harsh and cruel in his ears as he crawled, dragging and pulling his heavy body, on the bitter rough sand.

Finally, unable to bear it, he slunk down onto the sand and rested, turning onto his back, despite the pain, and just stared at the ebony coated sky.

He knew he was among the shadows. The dark gnarled form of thick blindness would have scared anybody, and it clung to his weak form like a claustrophobic vice, addicted to his drained state and feeding off whatever power he had left.

But then he felt it...he felt the rain.

He reveled in it. The cool drops seemed to be blessings from heaven as they traced down every contour of his face. All the light in the world couldn't have illuminated more pleasure in the dark shadows as the sweet melody of the rain did just then. For it showed perhaps a mortality of the shadows, a certain physical aspect that could be just passing by. A certain obstacle that he could overcome once again. It was as if the rain were just, washing everything...away.

He didn't know where he was, he didn't know how he got there.

And at that moment he didn't care.

All that mattered to him was that those precious jewels kept falling, lulling him into peaceful rest, at least for a little while, until he would have to face the harsh reality he was swept into. But for now, he was silent and his heavy lids fell closed, blinding him, perhaps, even more than the shadows did. Blinding him into an abyss of indifference and dreams.

Sleep overtook Captain Jack Sparrow and he became lost to the world.

But what was perhaps more frightening was not that he was lost...

But that he was lost in a world of shadows and rain.


	2. A Tragic Love Affair

_**Pirates of the Caribbean: The Black Heart Crusade**_

_Chapter 2: Tragic Love Affair_

No one but Jack Sparrow could ever be happy of seeing the swamp. For, if from anyone's normal perspective, a swamp is merely a marshy composite of land designed for the trappings of man and beast alike. Even one with the largest morale and courage in the entire universe, would never have even thought of conjuring every ounce of will power towards venturing deep into the depths of the perilous damp lands. It would be impossible.

But then again, impossible things don't always add up to the same markings as not probable occurrences. Therefore, it may have been impossible, but then again not probable, that Captain Jack Sparrow ventured into the deepest extremes of the swamp, and managed to go unscathed in finding the hut of the mystical gypsy woman, Tia Dalma. But then again, the end doesn't always have to justify the means.

It seemed only a few moments ago, when he was lying on that beach, the crimson orange of sunrise blinding him from behind his aching eyelids. And even as he meticulously sat up, and felt every ounce of unaccounted pain slash harshly into every crevice of muscle and bone, he never once lost sight of what he needed to do. And thus, glancing at the glaring black spot on the palm of his right hand, he began his slow and scrupulous journey off the island that he crawled onto. Off to the swamp that he embarked with undefined confidence.

"Jack Sparrow?"

Those large pupils of darkness, filled to the brim with blood of unending restless nights and the uninterrupted strain of visions of destiny and fate, were a sight to sore eyes, no pun intended, and Jack nearly passed out from relief.

"Tia Dalma...Miss me?" he croaked out, his voice ragged and dry, and with that he collapsed in the woman's awaiting arms.

"Oh Jack, what has de world don te yoo?"

Placing him onto the makeshift bed of reeds and linen, Tia took a knife from the dresser and cut open his shirt and pants and examined a world of troubles.

Blood encompassed his entire frame from each gash that was scattered across every inch, and rushed out mercilessly into a waterfall of tears and pain. Brushing her fingers lightly over each one, Tia's body was wracked immediately by piercing agony and visions of sharp ragged teeth and the smell of putrid decaying breath. She saw as each tooth thrust into him like a bunch of ragged knives and how the creature's breath caused his stomach to churn and his throat to clasp harshly against his neck while his lungs contracted sharply with lack of fresh air. She felt the fierce heat and tension as it erupted from deep within his muscles as he struggled and pushed his body into the impossible. She heard his thoughts as they brooded in concentration and determination as he tried to pursue the impossible.

And placing a hand over his still beating heart, the constant rhythm slowly revolving into a melody of hope, showed her that in his darkest moment, he still willed himself to have the hope to keep going.

To live.

Chanting slowly and clearly in ancient tongue, slowly the gashes closed, the wounds healed. The pain gone.

Placing both hands on his heart and forehead she whispered

"De physical pain is gone, Jack. But I cannot get rid of de pain in yer heart and mind. Dese memories are gonna be wit ya fer the rest of yer life, but ye can overcome dem lad."

Kissing him on the forehead and placing his hat onto the dresser, she turned to douse the lamp before retreating into her room. Before closing the door, she whispered in afterthought, but with firm finality.

"Ye must."

**_Abord the Black Pearl_**

"Raise them sails ye bloomin' cockroaches, else ye be swimmin with them sharks."

The entire crew, for three days straight, from dawn til dusk, panted for breath as they frantically pushed themselves to the very limit. They had found supplies in Tortuga and commandeered a ship, but to where the wind would lead them, they had no clue. All they knew was that their Captain was a royal pain in the-

"Come on lass ye can do it, just keep tellin yerself that ye can," Gibbs crooned firmly but softly into Elizabeth's ear as she collapsed for the fourth time that day.

It wasn't the physical pain that was getting to her. Far from it. She had lasted three days, why wouldn't she now.

No it wasn't that.

It was because every time she stopped concentrating, let her guard down for more than a second, she heard _him_.

He was in her thoughts constantly; all the things he said erupting back and echoing into jumbles of nonsense in her mind. Perhaps this was what a murderer knew after he/she had done the dirty deed. Always hearing their voice...seeing their face right before you let them go...

She remembered everything vividly. The hot feel of his lips pressed urgently against hers. The heat spreading through her as every thought fleeted from her mind as she pulled him closer to him. She was so taken in the passion, she barely remembered what she set out to do. His lips melding over hers intoxicated her and she pressed against him, shamefully grinding against him, moaning into his mouth.

But then, that moment, that blissful memory was always replaced with that sweet sad smile of betrayal, those eyes filled with burning heat.

_"This is the only way don't you see...I'm not sorry." her lips hovered over his but she pulled back before she lost herself completely._

_"Pirate," he had sneered back at her, his voice full of contempt and mockery._

She shuddered again and resumed pulling the ropes alongside Mr. Gibbs. With all her might she would try and overcome these feelings. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

**_Beach_**

He stood before a majestic sunset, the crimsons and purples meshing together in complete harmony and beauty right before his eyes, and for the moment, he was short of breath.

With Tia Dalma at his side, he set his gaze out to sea.

What a love affair a man and the sea made. The man, always revealing the facade of a strong courageous fellow. A being determined to, at all costs, to get what they want, and to pursue all dreams that come along the way. A man always starts alone, as it was in the beginning of time. A man, despite all his trying and his winning and his goals, always has this hole that needs to be filled...a hole that can only be replaced with one thing.

The sea is always fickle. In story books it is described as a woman. It can be as gentle as a mother caressing her child into peaceful slumber, or it can be as raging as a determined woman, awakened with passion and fury. The sea, so much like a woman, fills that hole in a man's heart and addicts him into a temporary paradise.

Yes, a love affair is certain to ensue between a man and the sea, for that is how it has become to be for many a year.

But as Jack Sparrow glanced back into the fading sunset, he felt the hole in his heart splinter into a million shards of sea foam glass and watched as they were swept away with the soothing current.

The sea would always be a love of his, but he knew, he knew deep in his mind and fresh heart, aching with the carved hole newly etched, that it would never be enough.

Yes, he thought, compared to even the most vivid terrors and wonders of the sea...

A woman is definitely a much more tragic love affair.


	3. Flying Wings Of The Devil

_**Pirates of the Caribbean: The Black Heart Crusade**_

_Chapter 3: Flying Wings Of A Devil_

The picturesque sunset vanished, settling beneath the horizon's glow for a much earned repose. Regaining his much needed composure, he turned sharply, swaying slightly and leaning on his right heel, toward Tia Dalma.

"Tia darlin', I need ye faithful services once again. I do 'owever find meself incapable of findin' a suitable and lifelike creature to pursue interest aside from this...uh here!" he bent down quickly at his hip, and clutching his prize in a fist, continued in an awe-inspiring voice to cause intrigue, "This extremely rare and irreplaceable..." opening his fist, his convincing smile began to drop dramatically as he stared at his offering, "crab...is my bargain for ye help."

She simply stared at him, her black irises piercing deep within his chocolate gaze. He cautiously took her caramel colored hand into his and placed the scuttling crustacean into the palm into her hand, where obediently, it relaxed into her hand and curled into its shel.l

"A crab...what am to be doin' wit dis."

Using her own words against her, he said smartly, "If ye don't want it...give it back."

Chuckling slightly while shaking her head, she answered him with "Oh Jack, ye be a jewel."

"Oh really," he exclaimed, apparently pleased with the compliment, " and which jewel might I be." he added seductively, waggling his eyebrows in comical effect.

"A precious black pearl Jack, surely ye must know dat."

Remorse and pain swept over him faster than any ocean current. It pulled into his soul and fiercely tugged at his very heart strings.

_The Black Pearl._

Flashes of the Kraken gnarling its tentacles around the ebony wood of the main mast, twirling itself like a vicious adornment, almost seeming serene. But then in a flash, a mere flicker of an eyelid, splinters splattered like rain down onto the majestic deck, as the mast and sails were torn and ripped, cracked at the middle and crashing down onto the screams of his mates below.

Bodies scrambled, frantically searching for a means of protection against this unforgiving behemoth, while victims swung through the air, immediately crushed by the colossal grip of its furious tentacles, before plunging unseeing into the vicious abyss of rotting corpses and crushed dreams.

He remembered that smell...the scent of death on the breath of that beast as he plunged deep into depths that no sailor had ever wished, nor would even think of embarking on. He had tried escaping it, tried rowing away from that lingering stench that determined the many disposal of lost souls, but in the end, that's not what he wanted.

He didn't want to be remembered for running away. He didn't want to be a coward. He was _Captain Jack Sparrow_. He was known throughout the entire Caribbean as the most courageous buccaneer. His stories were always told with such admiration for his slick character and endless breath taking, near death experiences.

But most of all, he thought that he just couldn't let **her** down.

"_You'll have the chance to do something courageous. And then you'll discover something...that you're a good man."_

It was what he wanted most...to be...

"Jack..."

Slipping out of his reverie of mixed emotions, he found startling relief in the coolness of Tia Dalma's hand entwined with his.

Slowly she lifted his right palm to show the black spot, its crudely presence more pronounced than ever.

"What is it dat ye be wantin' from me Jack?"

He stared crisply into her eyes for a moment, and unwavering he whispered.

"Davy Jones."

_Aboard the Flying Dutchman_

"Jack Sparrow is still alive sir, he's not in the locker."

Davy Jones smoked his curled pipe furiously, the smoke clouding his tentacles and resurfacing through each pore.

_Jack Sparrow_ he thought with a sneer. Oh how he hated and despised him.

He had escaped him three times, all times with the scrape of his teeth. That last time, when he was waving that jar of dirt like a lunatic moron he hoped, no, he had _known_ that there would be no escape for him that time. For the Kraken never took any survivors.

But, amazed, he watched from the sidelines as the Kraken was forced to retreat a number of times before finally, it had gotten so riled up that it needed to sink back into the watery depths to contemplate its final attack.

And with his telescope he watched as Jack Sparrow defiantly stood against the Kraken and plunge deep into the caverns, to be seen no more.

The feeling of victory was short lived, however, when upon receiving his chest back from his motley crew, he was once again placed in anguish.

It was gone...just as he had said.

"_Lose something fish face?"_

He knew Jack had had the heart, whether for a spilt second or the entire time, he hadn't known.

But opening that chest had revealed once again all his previous anxieties and nerves. Jack had taken it, but to where?

It was obvious know that he didn't have it when he went into the Kraken, because, if that had been so Davy Jones would be no more.

For without his heart, he was no longer in control of the sea. As long as it still beat, no one could impeach him.

But then again, the person, or persons, who had it, could use it against him, and that was a most unsettling notion indeed.

"Sir did ye hear?"

"Of course I heard yah!" he snapped suddenly.

Jack Sparrow was still alive...which meant only one thing...

_He knows where the heart is._

"Find him."

Beach

Placing Jack's right hand, black spot face down, in the clear crystal blue of the sea, Tia Dalma said, "Jack, repeat after me."

"_I, de cursed one,"_

"I, the cursed one,"

"_Wish for dat which is most dreaded in all da sea."_

"Wish for that which is most dreaded in all the sea."

"_A Ship wit de flyin' wings of de devil."_

"A Ship with the flyin' wings of the devil."

"_Te cume,"_

"To come,"

"'_nd fly..."_

"And fly..."

"_Away wit me."_

"Away with me."Jack finished in a whisper, whether it was appropriate or not.

Pulling his hand from the water, he turned behind him to where Tia was standing, to find that she had somehow taken off without him knowing.

Placing a ragged hand over his tired face, he began slowly making his retreat back towards the beach, he legs sloshing morosely over the surf.

Then suddenly, he felt a rumbling beneath his feet, an unsettling vibration that caused him to move without him voluntary participating motion.The suddenly he was being uplifted by a wave, his feet floating over a simple stream of air and foam. He flailed his arms about, as if scrambling to maintain balance, but his feet seemed to have acquired a mind of their own and seemed to be cemented firmly over the jet.

And in slight fascination and horror, he watched as the Flying Dutchman, on the wings of the devil, flied out of the sea and sailed right over to him.

"Oh," he chuckled, "it worked."


	4. Deals with a Narcissus

_Chapter 4: Deals of the Narcissus_

_Oh, it worked..._

The _Flying Dutchman_ appeared behind a shimmering cascade of elliptical waves and foam, as if ascending from hell itself to snatch a chance at heaven above, before crashing back down in the multitude of crystal blue darkness. Jack watched as it bobbed and weaved its way by the very edge of the shore, and became parallel to Jack's form as it hung above the single jet that erupted from the grainy sandJeers and gritty grunts erupted from the deck of the blood of many and the souls of few, and Jack couldn't help but feel his Adam's apple bob noticeably and his stomach clench tightly and for a moment of pregnant pause, he could hardly remember the reason for his calling of this monstrous behemoth.

Closing his eyes for a moment while trying to block out the constant ringing and screaming that was echoing in his ears, he suddenly felt a sharp pull in the tendons in the backs of his legs and he was suddenly flying through the air. His eyes bulged to the size of fresh china dish saucers as he watched the jet that once had occupied his volume, disappear as silently as the wind, and for a few seconds all he could do was stare at the beach below him. But as he noticed that the beach sand was getting closer and closer to his form, he began screaming at the top of his lungs, for in reality, that is the only thing one can think to do in a situation where you are falling with no comfort above you and certainly none below you.

Bracing himself for the hit, he tucked himself closer to his chest and squinted his eyes shut, the lids cemented together so that it felt like all the blood vessels were being scrunched enough to burst so that pain erupted from the constant strain.

But then...the pain never came...

Lifting his weary lids and blinking twice to cease the watery sensation of being familiar with lack of light, he perplexedly shifted his eyes around his current setting.

He appeared to be on a bed; one adorned with rustic sheets of pure satin and polished ebony, sculpted elegantly as its posts. The bed stood a good 5 feet off the ground, and sunk around Jack's weight like a mold, as if knowing Jack's exact comfort spots.

"I have no idea where I am, but I certainly hold no complaints at this present time..." he mumbled groggily to himself, and stretching all the aches and pains out of his tense muscles he placed his hat over his head in a gesture that pursued a nice long nap...

"Enjoyin' yer stay Jack."

Shooting up from the bed as if a cat doused in freezing water, Jack landed ungracefully on the wooden floors of his present predicament.

"Fer someone who is supposed te be dead Jacko, ye look preettty good."

Leaning back, slowly on his heels, to glance at a sight he certainly could have done well without every laying his eyes on again.

This man, or creature, whichever your preference, stood a good six feet, causing Jack to crane his neck back til it cricked a loud symphony of ease. He would, perhaps, have been taller had it not been for his noticeable slump in the spine fixture of his back. On one leg was a would be ebony suede leather boot, had it not been for its travel worn and rotted adornment, which was complimented by a rather gnarled crustacean crab leg with an emphasized point that sounded like a pitched organ with every limp and step. Beige moth eaten pants and a peasant shirt covered his body, bejeweled with moss covered belts and jangles, that hung limp and careless around his abdomen. On his back was a cloak of black, wringing down like a shadow and ending in perfected tassels and tatters that swayed with every breath of wind that managed to be phased in its wake. One hand was embellished as that of a knights glove, sown intricately with vineyards of convoluted patterns that mesmerized one into delusions. Its partner was a grossly carved claw, that gripped and convulsed as if clasping something in its clutch, and then releasing for a genuine fear of crushing it, and then twitching finally, as if going to grasp something else. Its face was a concoction of things. Slime and water mixed to appear in a shiny plaster that permeated out of every crevice and fixture, and dripped in pools down its neck. Ringlets of muscle and tissue formed circular funnels that hung around and formed as the hair underneath the beginnings of its cheekbones and hair line. Its eyes were pearl blue and cloud silver, glowing in countless emotions, yet showing nothing but a dull dreary world of sin and hate. To complete his portrait, perched on his head was hat meant to be tri cornered, but was haggardly cut down the middle to create two wings, and in his right hand was a long stick to keep his already hazard like balance.

Davy Jones...death himself.

In a way it was strange to Jack, that this...well whatever he was, could represent all the souls of death and retribution, sins and broken promises, yet still have an aura of humanistic intentions ebbing out of every pore. If one didn't understand this man's story, one would simply feel the clutch of ice around their heart strings as they stared into the puce eyes of this confining shadow of blood and hate, and know only, that their life would end with that coldness and cowardice. But being Jack, you were simply shocked with the cold, for a few moments, and then something else took its volume. Some sort of bittersweet sadness, that didn't tear at the heart, but merely held onto it, for if it let go, an interstice would be left in its wake, and the person would not only feel the loneliness, but would know, nothing else.

But this wasn't the time to wonder the puzzling nature of a man, beast, whatever. This was the time to hide the fear and hate, and do what Jack did best...

"Jonsey darlin', haven't seen ya in a coon's age. Tell me how the ol' 'eart is doin' ? Still beatin'?" Jack answered, as he climbed to his feet, trying to ignore the sudden blasts of cold he felt as Jones' eyes turned from merry silver, to emblazoned black.

And suddenly, Jack was slammed into the back cabin wall, with Davy Jones' claw wrapped viciously around his neck.

"Ye know where it is ye lil slimy serpent! Ye stole it from me, and now ye come to gloat in me face! I'll show you how it feels to have yer heart wrenched from your chest, shredding your ribs into twain!"

His grip tightened and Jack felt his lungs collapse and plunge loudly into his stomach, as if an entire mountain had regally plunked into a cavern of darkness. His eyes swirled with masses of colors and bright sparkles erupted like dancing pixies, suddenly reminding him of a rounding adventure which evolved opium in London...

"W-w-waiiiit," Jack gasped, panting wildly for air, and his words stretched in labored pulls.

"Give me a gud reasonnn." Jones hissed in Jack's blood filled ear.

"I...Kkkknoooowww...whhere it isssss."

And just like that, Jack crippled onto the floor, heaving coughs wracking his weak and demoralized frame. He tasted rust and rancid air seep down into his lungs and painfully revive them.

As if taking no notice, Jones's turned toward a large map of the world along his wall, that seemed be...moving.

Jack blinked unbelieving several times, believing that the lack of air was causing him dizziness therefore creating the motion, before pulling his eyelids open with his fingers to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

Standing up, he shuffled closer to the map, his nose a scant breath away from touching the yellowed parchment.

His eyes shifted wildly over everything and then nothing all at once. Ships, fully carved were sailing across a crystal blue sea, the waves falling and rising and so real, that Jack felt that if he touched it with his hand, it would plunge inside. It was sooo real...he wondered if it was possible, as he reached toward a lonely ship...could he really...

"Now Jack," the harsh voice clipped, snapping Jack back intoreality, and Jack stepped backward from the map, as if a child caught snatching something not of his values, "where be it?"

A smirk formed on his lips and his answered smartly, "Where be what?"

Gripping his claws menacingly, Jack visibly flinched and grasped his throat tightly, while pitching, "Oh righ' that," his voice noticeably three octaves higher. Clearing his voice, and finding normalcy, he continued, "Tis true, I know where ya thump thump might be. But, how do I know that I won't be utterly and totally, incompacetorially screwed when I tell ye of it's whereabouts? How do I know, that you won't send that friendly beastie of yers to 'ave another bite at ol' tasty Jack? Now before ye answer," he said holding a finger out toward the impatient menace in the corner, " I have just the answer ye seek."

"As I said, I know where it is, and ye know that I know, that you know that I know exactly where it is." he said, pausing for a moment, and squinting his eyes in slight scrutiny as if he didn't even know what he said, "Ergo, ye need me, so there would be no possible reason to be killin' me since I be the only one who is **willing** to tell ye..." his words hung in dramatic silence, waiting for Jones' reaction.

"Yer point is Jack..." he clipped with slight impatience, yet also with definite intrigue.

"The point is that I will retrieve yer...er, heart, under a few conditions."

"And those would be..."

"I want this...thing, off." He said repulsively while waving the black spot infection wildly in Jones' face, "I want no ties held to ye whatsoever, along with me friends. No soul trades, nuthin'."

"Anythin' else." Jones' responded, his eyes narrowed in momentary irritation.

"I want...the Black Pearl back."

_Flashback_

_A young boy sat on the edge of a fatigued mahogany dock, staring into the twilight lit sky speckled with confused stars and remnants of illumination. His arms were braced against the edge and his legs swung incautiously, the feet lightly grazing the sweeping current. _

_Sorrowful tears coursed melodiously down his cheeks, his chocolate eyes caustically pulsing as the blood rushed behind his eyelids. Smoke still filled the water from the burning embers of the hull of the ship of his father's dreams, and he could still feel the constant clutching of his heart as he remembered that not only was the dream gone...the man was too. _

_What he would do if he could just erase everything, and go back to they way it used to be. Hear his father call his name, pull him tightly into his arms, ruffle his hair with loving caresses. How much he would give just to see that ship with its captain gracing the majestic helm, riding off into the horizon of endless possibilities and unfulfilled dreams..._

_He would give anything..._

"Done_"_

As they gripped each others hand in tight consent, their eyes pierced its companion, the souls of the other dancing before the other's gaze. They both knew each other's story; they had embarked on the novels many times before. They both knew each others pains, their weaknesses, their dreams, their sorrows, their tears...this challenge would only add to the many chapters that these two had partaken before.

They had one thing in common...they couldn't predict the future. They didn't know if the other was plotting a surprise that could turn for the worse, and they certainly didn't know if the other was lying. What they did know was, that at anytime, anywhere, they could find the other, not because they wanted to, or because they were inseparable, but because there was a connection.

A connection forged by misery and pain, sadness and dread. A connection so powerful it rivaled the potency of the very sea in which they both sailed on.

Jack felt no worries, for as he relinquished his grip, he knew secretly that he had one distinct advantage over his fish-like companion. In his heart he knew, that Jones knew that he was making a deal with a pirate...but what Jones didn't know was that he had just made a deal with a narcissus, one of the most cunning individuals to ever exist in history... and that, Jack concluded, would made all the difference.


End file.
